


Two hearts bleed better than one

by MeatPanic (Ossicle)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Universe, Comfort Sex, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous ex Lover, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Retraumatizing comfort sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ossicle/pseuds/MeatPanic
Summary: Hawkins tortures Law using every means available to him — especially the crewmate who he knows is Law's fatal weakness.Dark Lawkins, soft LawPeng, extreme violence.
Relationships: Basil Hawkins/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Penguin/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About the content warnings: noncon tag for explicit rape in second chapter, implied rape elsewhere, and aftermath in third chapter. Graphic violence tag for explicit torture scenes. Neither applies to the LawPeng relationship, though the 'comfort' sex scene is difficult and not that comforting. Apologies in advance to the Hawkins shippers, I went ahead and made him all out evil :/
> 
> Meatpanic is my trauma porn pseud, so that's what this is. If you think theres something else i should tag or make clear plz comment, or can email (addy in my bio)

Hawkins pulled on the limp arm of the figure lying below him. There was a broken exhale but that was it. 

"Irritating," Hawkins murmured in quiet, even tones. "But not unforeseen."

Another shadow darkened the door behind him—a tall man, in a half mask and full leather armor. "The guest of honor is here," he announced. "As you predicted, I guess. So, if you've quite finished with this one."

"Hm," Hawkins let the arm fall. He pulled his long cloak around him again and examined his gloves, back and front.

"I am still concerned, though, that their poor condition will impede the bargaining process, should it come to that—"

"Drake," Hawkins pushed past him with a sigh, "shut up."

There was an argument in the same controlled tones as the two departed the dark room. The slice of light from the open door fell across the body left on the floor, its chest blood-streaked and heaving. With an effort, it rolled itself over and tried to get two hands under itself. They gave way and it curled up instead, clutching its head. Another broken-off breath escaped its lungs and slowly crescendoed into a ragged scream, ringing in the empty space until there was nothing left inside it.

It fell still and silent again, listening to the two desperate voices that had been calling out its name somewhere in the distance.

* * *

Drake was a little taken aback at how smoothly Hawkins' plan fell into place. Hawkins, of course, gave no indication of surprise or glee or anything. He was eternally stoic, like it was all inevitable.

The trade was soon made, the three Heart pirates let free. Trafalgar was bound now instead of his crewmates, and surely all parties were aware that unlike them, he wasn't getting out of it.

Hawkins put the seastone collar on their prize prisoner with special care. He fit it in place and then stood staring down at their captive, seeming transfixed.

Trafalgar watched him with steady disinterest.

"Like it, huh?" he spoke up.

Hawkins made an impatient noise in his throat and turned away abruptly.

Drake just crossed his arms, leather creaking, and gave Trafalgar a look. "You do know what's going to happen now, right?"

"I'm soft, not stupid," he was informed.

"You're both," Hawkins argued from across the room. He busied himself in pouring a glass of wine from a decanter, ready nearby.

"I might have to agree," Drake told Trafalgar. "There's no way your crewmates' freedom is worth yours. That trade was the definition of stupidity."

Trafalgar shrugged and left it at that.

"And  _ so _ predictable," Hawkins disapproved into his wine glass.

"In any case, the matter before us is what it is. Letting you go is out of the question, so your usefulness as a bargaining chip is basically nil. We need your information, and then we need you to die. You understand that?" Drake prompted.

The prisoner shrugged again.

"Trafalgar..." Drake insisted.

"Do you really need my informed consent to torture me to death?"

They were both surprised by the fist that came out of the dark and sent the kneeling prisoner flying backwards.

Trafalgar spat blood and cracked his neck, laid out on the floor. "Damn."

Drake looked sideways at Hawkins, who was shaking out his gloved fist, still expressionless, and returning to the side table for another drink.

"Hawkins, we agreed that I'd take the lead on this one," Drake reminded him with a hint of a growl.

"I recall. Go ahead."

Drake sighed and addressed the prone figure. "You should know that we will take no pleasure in this."

"Yeah, see, that there is a lie..." Trafalgar sassed from the floor.

Hawkins interrupted with an edge of irritation in his voice. "You charge  _ us _ with cruelty? Your sins are known, Surgeon of Death."

"Yeah. So I'd know sadistic bastards, wouldn't I." Trafalgar struggled back to sitting upright and sent him a little ghost of a smile. 

"You would, yes."

"Bitter, Hawker?"

"Please."

Drake looked between them with mounting impatience. "Is there some history here I should know about?"

"Nothing of note," Tragalgar dismissed the question.

"Cold as ever," Hawkins accused.

"Basil, could I have a word—" Drake tried interrupting.

"And you're going to  _ die _ that way. Alone. Abandoned." Hawkins went on, ignoring Drake.

Law shot back, "Take your pleasures while you can, then. I'll be even colder once you kill me. You may find then that the dead, like your dolls, suit you better than the living after all."

In the tense silence that followed, Drake crossed to the heavy dungeon door and pulled it open with purpose. He cleared his throat.

Hawkins glanced over in irritation, and sighed at Drake's pointed gesture. He looked down at his captive.

A pointed boot cracked into Trafalgar's face and he hit the floor once more. 

"Nh! Fuck!" He spat another mouthful of blood, groaning.

A callous tilt of the hand and Hawkins emptied his wine glass over the bloodied face. He shook it out and tossed the glass in the corner.

"Yes, I'm coming," Hawkins muttered to Drake. He followed him into the hall and stood with his arms crossed, indifferent again.

"We agreed," Drake started.

"Sure. You lead."

"Because you compromised the last one with your haste."

"I did not."

"We didn't get any information out of those three at all," Drake pointed out. "I doubt the first mate even remembered how to speak after you were done with him."

"We didn't need him to speak. We needed for him, especially, to  _ suffer, _ and for Trafalgar to see it. That's how we'll achieve our final goal," Hawkins explained steadily. "Through the captain's weakness toward his beloved crew."

"Over-complicated," Drake argued.

"Because you are a simpleton." Hawkins turned and went away down the hall. "Have your go for now. Call me when you fail."

* * *

Drake returned to the room, signaling to three of his subordinates to follow him. He closed the door. 

Trafalgar had gotten himself up into a sitting position against the wall. His expression hadn't changed.

"I'll give you the opportunity to speak before I begin, of course," Drake offered.

"Appreciated. Go fuck yourself."

"Hah. Trafalgar… I actually admire you for that uncompromising side. You know, there's things in play here in Wano that you have no idea about. Me? I'm caught in it. You have to understand."

Law wasn't buying it. "You sold your ass to a stronger player. It's hardly that complex or interesting, Diez."

"Hmph… Well, anyway, I was being honest that I take no pleasure in what I'm required to do to you. But that doesn't change anything. I do what I need to, for reasons I don't owe anyone. Larger picture."

"Drake, shut up."

"Cur. The hood, then."

A heavy sack was pulled over the prisoner's head and secured with a length of rope around his neck. The kimono was torn away from his shoulders and more ropes fed around his arms. 

"I'll admit I'm a little out of practice at this. I usually just consume enemy crew members until the captain talks. We've stupidly let yours go, however."

Trafalgar didn't reply. Inside the suffocating hood, with the rope beginning to bite into his neck, Drake could see the other start to struggle to breathe.

"Anyway, I went looking for ideas, and turns out you've had a few good ones yourself. This one was reported from around the time you entered the Grand Line. Seems a little messier than I'd expected from you, but I'll trust your judgement as to its effectiveness."

* * *

Hawkins waited with perfect patience, until the first scream sounded from across the compound, some hours later. He stilled, straining to hear more, but that was it. He refocused on the cards spread in front of him—still incomprehensible. His mind was elsewhere.

With the second scream he was out of his chair and striding down the path without even thinking, boots clicking on the cobble. Diez had posted guards outside the low, windowless building but Hawkins ignored them and opened the door.

The scene was about as basic as Hawkins had expected, all blood and chains and distended limbs. Law hung by his hands from the ceiling beams, arms eerily too long, almost looking triple jointed. Shoulders must have ripped free of their sockets already, inside the skin—hence the screaming. That was pretty good, actually.

"Why is his face covered?" Hawkins inquired idly.

Diez shot him an annoyed look. "Weren't you stepping back?"

"I was. Why can't we see his face."

"This is how he does it himself, according to reports. Hooding and hobbling his victims."

Hawkins regarded the arrangement critically. "It's not how we did it with his crewmate. I thought I told you, to get to him—"

"Deregg, show Mister Basil out, please." Diez turned back to his task. He tugged down hard on one of Law's feet and the hanging body jerked to life with a muffled cry of pain. It twisted in the air fitfully, heavy on its crooked arms.

Hawkins looked the heavyset henchman up and down without concern. But he turned and allowed himself to be led out.

* * *

It was early evening now, and the cards refused to tell Hawkins anything substantial about Law's condition, or what was being done to him. They just kept coming up Death. 

"I  _ know _ he's going to die," he hissed at them. "I need more than that…"

He tried enchanting a small fetish of straw with Law's hair next. He watched the crude little doll twist and shudder, fibers tearing and smouldering. He couldn't divine what face it was making, though. He picked it up and let it writhe in his hand, waiting and thinking.

* * *

Hawkins waited through the night until the sun came up, then rose from his chair. He took fresh black gloves from the chest and slid them on, cracking his fingers delicately. The straw doll on the table was shivering and almost still. The cards had finally shown him something new: the Wheel.

The pale specter departed his quarters and made his way through the compound, silent now, and unhurried. First to the quarters where Diez's circle of trusted men still slept, with no guard posted. Some careful work. Then to the outbuilding where the prisoner waited.

Slips of dawn were crawling around the tops of trees, but they faded into nothing as Hawkins reached the shadowed end of the courtyard. There was no sound here except for the steady ring of a chain glancing off stone and striking flesh. No screams.

The guards started to block his way as he approached, and Hawkins wrapped his hands hard around two of the dolls tucked in his overcape. The men crunched like sticks and fell gurgling to the floor. Hawkins swept past them.

Inside the room the rest of the men stood over a crumpled figure on the floor, its head still hooded and its blood streaking their boots. Diez looked up as Hawkins entered, and sent a dark glare his way.

"Men. I need Mister Basil gone."

They all turned as one and descended on the lower-ranked officer. Then they stood in startled confusion as their hands grabbed straw and nothing. They died like that too, necks and spines cracking and heavy bodies hitting the stone one after the other.

"I will take my turn now," Hawkins emerged from the shadows behind Diez. "Please leave."

Drake didn't even waver. Something animalistic twisted his features and expanded his frame. "I could consume you and twenty of your straw decoys without even—"

"I have your men's lives in my hands. The ones you brought over from your own crew. I took their hair while they slept."

Drake was silent as he absorbed this. He gradually shrank back to normal size, though his face stayed monstrous. In a jarring timbre he snarled at Hawkins, "And what if I go from this room and slaughter all of your own men?"

"I don't care."

"We are allies," Drake reminded Hawkins, showing sharp teeth.

"No, we're subordinates to a tyrant. Powerless." Hawkins passed carelessly by his beastly rival and knelt next to the motionless Law. "There's no victory in the cards for us anymore. Only subjection. And whatever other scraps we can grab."

"You're fucking delusional," Diez spat. "Fine, have him. You'll have no more luck than I did getting any information out of him."

"I don't need to…" Hawkins murmured, indifferent to Drake's departure. He set a delicate hand over the hooded head. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagged warnings apply fully this whole chapter. If you're just here for the comfort skip to next chapter.

Law startled into wakefulness when the touch on his skin went from harsh to soothing. He opened his eyes but saw nothing. His breath beat wetly against stifling fabric, and rope bit into his neck.

"Shh shh shh, hey, calm," a familiar voice instructed him.

His throat was so fucking dry and the hood so hot, he couldn't even get a breath. His body felt twisted and wrong.

"Fuck off—" he croaked. He pushed away whoever was touching him, but the movement sent lightning shards of pain stabbing through his over-extended joints. He cradled twisted arms to his chest instead and tried to focus on breathing.

"It could've been a good idea, to use on you the tortures you'd inflicted on others. Might have made a real impact," the unseen visitor was saying. Deft hands smoothed over Law's chest and shoulders. "If you'd ever actually done more than spread rumors of those deeds."

Law couldn't get any words out, the taste of bile too thick in his throat. Vomiting in the hood would probably push him right over the edge. 

"But I know how idealistic you are. You let me see it, once."

Law tried rolling over on his back. It stung but not as much as using his arms. He reflected, ruefully, "A mistake…"

"Yes." 

"Where's Drake?" Law strained to listen for others around them, but all he got was echoes. That sense of claustrophobia spiked anew, as he realized he was alone with Hawkins.

The hand was on his face now, cupping it over the fabric. "Diez doesn't have the stomach for what I'm going to do to you."

Law tried pulling away. Two hands caught his head and held it in place. 

"Doesn't matter what you do to me," Law tried laughing. "I'm gonna die anyway."

"Yes."

"You gonna fuck me? Cut me up? Whatever. Do whatever you want. I don't care."

"I will," Hawkins assured him. "But I want to tell you something first."

"I don't care, I don't fucking care…"

"I want to tell you what I did to your first mate."

Law stilled instantly.

Hawkins went on, musing, "...You never would've done something like this for me, would you. Sacrificing yourself."

"What… what did you…"

"You'd only do it for  _ them. _ Your crew. I realized when we parted, on such bad terms."

Law tried pulling the hood off, suddenly frantic. To his surprise, the cool hands helped. They loosened the knots at his throat and eased the hood away from his face. Law stared up at his former lover, pale and perfect in the dim light. He looked grim and aloof, the tattoos on his forehead slices in the sculpted symmetry of his face. Like some fallen noble—that's how Law had always imagined him to be. The benevolent kind, though… what a sick mistake.

"I do like the look," Hawkins decided, evaluating Law's own wrecked and collared state.

"What did you  _ do  _ to my..."

"I'll show you."

Some invisible force sent Law flying across the room and slamming into a wall. He tried picking himself up off the floor, but the force returned, pressing down on him until the air was forced out of his lungs and his skull started ringing. He felt his ribs crack under the pressure.

Abruptly it let up and Law was foundering for air as his whole body throbbed. 

Hawkins left the straw doll version of Law on the floor. He paced over to the flesh version and tested it with a foot. It flinched—it was almost ready. He quite liked this view of Law, he decided. Even had Law been standing, Hawkins would have towered over him by a head, but this perspective was even better.

"Perfect."

He began stripping off his own shirt and cloak, leaving his upper body bare except for black gloves. Blond hair fell over broad shoulders and down a lean but solid core, to his waist. He folded and stacked his clothing carefully. Law edged slowly away, realization dawning.

"I had an idea to capture you both, and enchant you so that he would receive your wounds as I inflicted them on you. Then you'd care what I did to you, wouldn't you." Hawkins turned and advanced on his quarry.

_ "No." _

"You would. My luck isn't that good, though. So I've had to reverse the order of infliction. I guess it's up to you to fill in the blanks."

"You fucking didn't do it, you're a liar, you're a liar…"

* * *

Pain and panic filled the room. Law fought, but he was still being ripped apart from the inside and he couldn't stop it.

Hawkins held him down with grim pleasure while he forced himself inside the twisting body. It was rough but that was good. Law was gasping aloud—almost,  _ almost _ screaming. The spasms alone were enough to take him over the edge—he'd have to go slowly. He bottomed out and lay heavily against the other while Law's hands scraped at his chest.

"Hm.  _ He _ was crying by this point."

"F- _ fuck…" _

"Not ready to give me that yet?"

The larger man ground hard into the hot mess of Law's hole, and felt him heave. Unbelievable. So much better than having him willing. A few short, probing thrusts and he could even feel the last of Law's defenses shudder away. He fucked harder into him. The tattooed body was slowly being rendered into pulp under him, its legs stretched too wide apart and its tan skin bruising from the force of the impacts. Hawkins could just imagine the damage happening inside.

The emotional damage was evident enough. This is what Hawkins had wanted to see. He traced a hand over the still-beautiful face and it stared at him in shock.

"Hurts, huh? But you'll heal. I know you're healing even now. Not like him—he'll just have to live with the damage."

"Stop—" Law managed.

"Stop what." Hawkins delivered another forceful thrust, and then another. It was slick now and it made a wet noise. 

"A...arghh! AGHH!!" Law tried talking but the thoughts kept getting gouged away. His head knocked on stone as his whole body was jerked violently.

"AaAAAHHH!!"

Hawkins paused long enough to shift their positions, pulling Law's leg up and twisting him so he could get deeper.

"God, you feel good. Fucking ripe for this. Not like your friend—I don't think he'd ever been had before."

"Stop…  _ talking _ !" Law managed. 

He twisted away enough that Hawkins had to grab him and get on top of him again. There was a struggle, easily won, and Hawkins savored the renewed thrill of victory. He had Law facedown now, so fully defeated. He just had to slide his dick down between the supple cheeks and press hard into the waiting hole, already slicked and sore. It stretched and strained around him.

A strangled sound came out of Law when he was penetrated this time. Pulling slowly out of him and then driving it all back in got an even better sound.

Hawkins wanted more than that, though. He leaned close to the other's ear.

"He screamed your name... Oh, oh, settle.  _ Settle." _

Law had started struggling violently again, and Hawkins held him down with pleasure. 

"Good," he commented as the last of Law's energy wore away. "Good…"

Law was limp and destroyed now, only pained breaths coming out. It only remained for the victor to spend himself in his quarry. Hawkins let himself go, hurling out all the rest of his malice in a rush. He beat into the other, fucking him the way he'd always wanted to, like it didn't matter if he could ever get up and walk again. His fingers broke skin. Law's scraped on stone.

Hawkins felt himself coming and pulled out as he spilled, trailing his refuse out of the messy hole and across the tattooed back.

You could hardly see the tattoos anymore for the abuse that covered them, Hawkins reflected, stepping back to straighten himself and muse on his work. Gashes from the chain, dirt and semen. He wasn't moving, but Hawkins could see him breathing.

"Thank you for your time and honesty, Trafalgar."

Hawkins left him there like that, not bothering to restrain him again. 

* * *

Hawkins gave it a day until he went down to visit his captive again. He'd instructed his men to remove the fallen corpses but leave the prisoner alone. Entering the dark room, he wondered whether any of them had taken their liberties regardless.

Law had gathered himself into a corner, torn clothes pulled around himself and shoulders set defensively. He ignored his captor as Hawkins approached to examine him.

A cool hand touched his brow and turned his face side to side. He pulled away.

"Fever. Not healing as fast as I thought you would. Seastone getting to you?"

No answer of course. Hawkins set his wine glass down.

That unseen force twisted Law's frame again, threatening to crush him, before throwing him halfway across the room. Hawkins set the straw doll down again and followed. Law was cursing between gulps of air, holding his ribs.

Hawkins pulled him to his knees and dragged the loose kimono away from his shoulders to expose his back. He pursed his lips and examined the unhealed damage there.

"Does look bad."

He released Law and went to seat himself regally on a rough wooden chair nearby.

"You can stop this. You know that."

"I thought we'd established," Law growled, sitting up and pulling his kimono back on, "that I'd be giving you no information."

"I don't want information."

Law gave him a strange look.

"Lord Kaido wants the information. And he's not here…  _ I," _ he leaned forward, "want you to fucking crawl.  _ Beg." _

Law didn't even answer. He looked straight through Hawkins and said nothing.

"Hm." Hawkins whistled for his subordinates to enter.

* * *

It escalated steadily, as Law knew it would. First some cursory tortures to wear him down, and then the same thing over again. His clothes torn off him, hands restraining him, and soul-penetrating pain. He tried not to react but that was a lost cause. There's no level of distraction deep enough to forget that you're being fucked by force. 

It was two of Hawkins' subordinates this time, the unsmiling man himself sitting by, examining his cards and not even watching.  They got Law on his knees and held his arms behind his back. He was still coughing up fluid from being dunked and held under sea water, and when the man behind him started forcing his blunt way into Law's body, he started choking. The man holding his head just twisted it harder. There was a moment of cold panic when he realized he couldn't breathe, and his instincts overrode his resolve. He clawed and struggled. Broad thighs smacked against his legs and shoved him repeatedly against the man holding his head. He saw stars.

He must have blacked out because he suddenly realized he was holding himself just off the floor, vomit trailing from his mouth and fluid trailing down his thighs. The men were standing back, and Hawkins was regarding him solemnly from his chair.

Hawkins held out a black-gloved hand. "Law. Come."

Law almost laughed but he was too nauseous. He sank down to the stone instead and shook his head.

"Your subordinate refused too."

Law squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to listen.

"Or maybe he really wasn't able to move? He doesn't have your considerable constitution, so the damage must have been—"

"Stop—!" Law blurted before he could hold it back. "Stop…"

A grimly satisfied look stole briefly over Hawkins' face. He stood. "I'll accept that for now. Tomorrow then."

* * *

Tomorrow came. And the tomorrow after that. He was getting weaker. They tried torturing him in increasingly crude ways, cutting him, burning him, fucking him one after the other until he was bleeding and screaming. He kept his silence and his resolve otherwise… except when Hawkins leaned close to put those unbearable suggestions in his ear. It struck into his head like lightning, no way to close them out. 

He still wouldn't give in to Hawkins' strange need to see him crawl, which aggravated the other. Not even the provocations about his crew could induce him to do that. What would be the fucking point? It'd just end his own suffering, not theirs.

He waited in the darkness between flashes of harsh light when his tormentors would come, trying to keep his swirling thoughts about his crew from going dark too.

* * *

"The problem now..." Hawkins began.

Law scoffed softly. He was lying on the ground, hands interlocked over his face, waiting for Hawkins to follow his men out the door and leave. His body felt like it was disintegrating, fucked everywhere, too many times over. He was barely healing at all from day to day, and the damage was adding up, the deeper parts festering.

"The problem is you've gotten into some kind of martyr frame of mind."

That just got another dismissive noise out of Law. He turned his head away.

"As though sharing your crewmate's wounds might alleviate them." Hawkins shook his head. "And that's not how it fucking works. Care compounds the wound, Trafalgar."

"Shut up, Hawkins…" Law turned over, away from this stupid conversation.

"You think I can't still hurt him?" Hawkins addressed his scarred back instead. 

"..."

"Well here's what I'm thinking now. Tomorrow, I kill you. I fuck you and ruin you in all the ways I've already done, all over again. Until you stop breathing. And then I send full documentation to your crew." Hawkins waited for this to sink in. 

It did, very gradually. Law turned to look at him. 

"They won't watch it," Law tried arguing.

"Of fucking course they will. They care too much not to."

Law slowly sat up, mind racing. "Fuck…"

"They'll watch it over, and over. And I can tell you, the chances are  _ very _ good that your soft, devoted first mate won't waste time following you into death after that."

"Fuck. Fuck…"

"You understand. I don't even need a straw doll to reach them." He extended his black-gloved hand again. "So, Law. Come."

Law shook his head, grasping his knees.

"Do it, Law. So they'll never have to see."

Law shook his head harder.

"Their pain will end if you just  _ come. _ This is your last chance."

Law felt something fundamental break in him as he got to his knees. He stared at his hands, fingers spread out on the floor.

"That's it."

Hawkins reached out to catch the back of Law's neck once he'd crawled close. He pulled him in and unbuckled himself.

"No…" Law tried backing away.

"Yes."

The gloved hand was firm on the back of his head. Another grasped around his jaw and forced his mouth onto the cock in front of him. Law started choking immediately.

"Breathe," Hawkins instructed as he allowed Law to pull back off momentarily.

That prompted a glare, but it didn't matter.

"Suck."

Law did. Not even trying to fight anymore, just trying not to choke, trying to get through this so he could fucking die. The hands didn't let up, they gripped him, leather creaking.

"Listen…" Hawkins leaned over him, and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "You think you can fucking insult me, turn away from me, and I'll just take it? Worthless. You, your crew, your ideals, everything."

There was an angry flinch but Hawkins renewed his grip and kept murmuring.

"Feel this? This is how that ends. You'll fucking die tomorrow, you'll be forgotten, and I'll be the one to have you at last. NOT your pretty subordinate. Not anyone."

"Mmh!" Law tried pulling off again but it was useless.

"Swallow it. Take it. It's going to be the last thing you'll ever feel, tomorrow. You'll die with it shoved so far inside you it'll split you open. And maybe then I'll find what's left of your crew too and finish what I—"

There was a violent burst of energy at this, Law suddenly trying to get free in earnest. He pushed away, shoving at Hawkins' grasping hands.

"Settle. I said SETTLE."

He thrashed.

Hawkins had one hand still fisted in Law's hair, and he jammed the other, hard, into his face. Then again.

"Ngh!"

"Fucking submit!"

Sharp, heavy jabs rained down on Law's skull. He couldn't get away. His cheek split, blood leaked from his eye. He wasn't fighting anymore, but Hawkins held onto his hair and drove his fist into the downturned face again and again in a brutal frenzy.

Vaguely, Law felt himself slump to the ground. The blows didn't let up. He couldn't tell if he was still breathing. Probably not…

He relaxed into the rhythm of it and let darkness fall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we're past the explicit noncon scenes but not past mention and aftermath. This is the comfort chapter, but bc it's me, it's deeply compromised sad comfort.  
> Okay.

Law woke in the dark once more, irritated that he wasn't dead after all. He didn't bother to open his eyes—all there was to see now was the grim face signaling his end. He pressed his lids tighter closed instead, trying to return to the person he could see in his mind's eye—someone sunny and full of life. His exact features had almost slipped from view but all his warmth remained.

"I didn't think it would be like this." A voice sounded from across the room. 

Law opened the one eye not crusted in blood, but didn't look over. He sighed at the ceiling. "And what. Drake. Did you think it'd be like."

Law could almost hear his visitor shrug. The silence stretched out between them.

"Not like this."

Law was steeling himself to hear some kind of heartfelt monologue, after which Drake would probably offer a mercy killing… which Law was honestly ready to accept. But gradually he realized that the other had already left. Law was alone. 

He pushed himself up to one elbow, and a pin dropped. The seastone collar unhinged and fell to the floor.

Law sat up and stared at it, not quite ready to believe it. Drake's work? He rubbed his neck and massaged the feeling back into his fingers. Slowly, the warmth was returning, and with it, the soaring electricity of his powers. 

"Room."

A small, wavering Room appeared, barely larger than himself. But that was enough. He sat still, mind drifting to different parts of his body and the damage there. Bones to knit together, ruptures to mend, torn ligaments to sew. The Room wavered and collapsed before he could finish his first pass. It'd have to be enough for now… He pulled together the tattered folds of his clothing, rubbed the blood from his face, and was ready.

Law stood. There were two thoughts on his mind now, as ever. The more immediate impulse hung full of darkly satisfying potential before him—revenge. He got up and made for the door.

The other thought interrupted in its quiet voice before he got there, though. It pulled at him softly, steadily, in that way that'd kept him sane through all of this.  _ Somewhere, _ it reminded him, _ the crew is alive, but hurt, in need. _

He hesitated.

* * *

Shachi and Bepo were waiting on the shore by the sub when Law returned—alone, as requested. The rest of the crew slept in an encampment along the beach, still unaware of his presence. He let the two rush up and crush him in tearful embraces. Shachi broke down immediately, clinging to Law. Law stroked his head and questioned him with concern. Was he severely injured? Had he been sleeping well and healing? No and no, but it didn't matter. They'd survived. Law sank into Bepo's furry hug just as readily. He rubbed the bear's paw pads and told him how good he'd been, how brave. Subtly, with an invisible casting of his Room, he evaluated their condition. Bad—both of them hiding damage, but not to the extent of Law's, at least. He relaxed a little. But then looked around with a redoubling of nerves.

"I thought I asked Penguin, too, to…?" Law started.

They looked at each other. "Um, he's…" 

"He won't talk to anyone, or come out of the med bay. We couldn't tell him you're here, he won't say anything." 

"I think he's locked himself in there." 

"Kinda the way Captain does sometimes…"

Law's heart fell out through his stomach. "Why?"

Shachi shrugged helplessly. "He got hurt worse than us. I don't know. He won't say what happened, and won't let anyone help."

Bepo offered quietly, "He got taken away almost right away. We didn't see him again until the trade was done."

"But…" Shachi looked up at Law from under his hat. "We could hear him."

Law felt punched in the gut. Alarms were blaring in his head, but he kept his voice even while he gave the two instructions for the crew.

* * *

He'd been so certain Hawkins had been lying. So fucking certain… why hadn't Drake intervened, if that's what was happening already? Why hadn't… why hadn't Law come sooner? Why hadn't he known?

Law went striding down the empty passageways of the sub, until he came to the medbay door. Untouched meal trays and fresh towels were stacked there. Notes from the crew. The door was locked. Law left his sword leaning against the door outside, and bypassed it with a quick cast of his Room. 

The medbay smelled like injury and despair. Vomit in the sink, needles on the counter. And a crumpled form lying half-dressed on a cot in the far corner.

Law forgot to be careful in his haste to reach him, and Penguin startled awake with a yelp. He stared at Law with wild eyes, breathing hard.

"Law…" he stretched out his arms.

"Peng, oh my god, look at you…"

"Law. Law… Law…"

Tears came so easily to Penguin, but these ones stung Law like acid where they fell on him. He huddled on the cot, holding his injured first mate, and feeling suddenly, totally helpless. He didn't fucking know what to do. How to fix it. It's not like Law hadn't come to this medbay in such a condition before. Locked himself away out of his crew's reach but not far from their comforting proximity. It was a way to protect them, as much as anything, from the toxic, self destructive creature that injury made of him. If Penguin hadn't gotten there first, Law would have done the same thing now. So now, more than ever before, Law was lost and bleedingly vulnerable before the unrestrained pain in front of him. 

Penguin kissed him, holding him just as carefully. Law felt his heart clench so hard he thought he'd die. He kissed him back. It was unfamiliar, for all the times they'd done this. Maybe it was that his irrepressible first mate had always been so happy, so unreservedly buoyed by Law's attention. As though just being near his captain was the peak of everything good in the world. A happiness that enveloped Law like a cloud and stayed with him for days, just after kissing him. Law hadn't… he hadn't fully appreciated the value of that, before. Always chasing after dark lovers, mysterious others with their own secrets. Penguin's light had always seemed like something he could come back to, like home. Always there, patient and uncomplaining, even as Law wandered away from him again and again.

Guilt twisted in Law's chest. Penguin's lips now were chapped and cracking, and his tears were soaking Law's cheeks. All Law's fault.

"Peng, you're cold," Law tried pulling away and looking around for blankets.

"Don't leave! Don't leave…"

"I'm not, I'm here. I'm here." 

Peng rambled into Law's neck. "There's nothing else to… to… I'm all fucking busted up, I think I'm bleeding inside? I don't know what to do."

"You're not bleeding. I'd see it. You're okay."

"I'm not okay. Fuck. I'm…" He buried his face in Law's chest and let out a hoarse scream that made all the hair on Law's neck stand up.

"Penguin! Listen, I'll get you anesthetic, I'll…" Law struggled to think of something. He couldn't fucking face this.

Penguin's dwindling cry became a sad laugh. "Anesthetic. Is that what you do when you come in here alone? Is that what we're letting you do?"

"It's something," Law stressed.

"Well I tried it. And it feels like nothing. I don't want nothing, I want… I want… I…"

"I'm here."

They latched onto each other in a kiss that was more like breathing through each other's mouths. Penguin pushed Law's clothing aside and clung close, like he was trying to sink into his skin.

"You got tortured," Penguin realized with a new level of hurt in his voice, when the layers came away. Law looked down at his bare chest. The deep cuts were scarred over now (after another quick repair session) but still red and stark.

"It's…" Law tried to calm the sudden panic-tightness in his throat. "It's nothing, I get worse damage all the time."

"Do you? Do they do this to you every time you leave us and go away?"

"I don't mean like that."

"Is this what it's like to be in your body…" Penguin laid his head on Law's chest, thinking. "It is. You hide it. Well I fucking can't. I can't deal with this."

"It'll heal," Law tried telling him.

"Not all of it." Penguin curled up tighter against him and shivered. "Did they fuck you?"

Law froze up completely. He held his first mate's head to his chest and stared at the cold metal of the submarine wall while unbearable words fell against him.

"There were four of them by the end," Penguin rambled. "Hawkins and his men. They cut me and fucked me, and they wouldn't stop. It just kept going. Every time I woke up, I was, they were..."

"Peng-ya…" Law swallowed. "You don't need to tell me if you—"

"Yes I fucking do. It  _ hurts. _ It hurts so much.  _ Fuck. _ I don't know what to do with it. And I KNOW you hurt like this too. You put it all away. Well I  _ can't. _ Listen. They hit me."

"Peng, calm down, please."

"He cut my hair off. He thought maybe you liked it better than his… he knew about us. And when he got on top of me he said that this is how you'd take me too, that this is what you wanted from me—"

"STOP! Stop talking!!" Law insisted frantically.

He sat upright as though to get away, but couldn't make himself let go of Penguin's arms. Couldn't face all the pain in front of him either. He wavered. Penguin must have realized he was about to lose Law again. He stopped his stream of words and looked utterly lost. 

The next kiss he gave Law was different from before—desperate. His hands were shaking. He bit at Law's lip and pulled the other down on top of him. They both started half-panicking when they realized what they were doing.

"Fuck…  _ fuck. _ This is just gonna fuck us up more," Law stated the obvious.

"Well fuck, I dont know what else...! Just do it,  _ do it, _ please—"

"Okay! I'm not saying no! Just... It isn't even sex, when it's like this, it's—"

"It's something, okay?"

"Okay. Okay, yeah, it'll be okay."

Peng's body was a paler version of Law's in every way. Same slender build and sharp shoulders, tapering down. Some of the same tattoos—the toothed ovals on his arms, like so many of the crew, and their emblem on his shoulders, where Law had hearts. His chest was untattooed, but marked now by Hawkins' knives in the same way as Law's, though the cuts hadn't more than scabbed over. He was still so, so wounded, it was all so raw on him. Law kissed the marks and promised in his mind to heal them, all of them, one by one. 

Penguin pulled him up by the arm when he got too far away.

"I wanted to get you off first," Law objected.

"Naw, I don't wanna get off, I wanna have… you…"

"I'm here."

"Something that's not  _ him." _

"You've got me. I'm here. Forever, okay?"

"Yeah."

Their bodies were so perfectly matched, mirrored chest to chest as they eased together. Tears were streaming down Penguin's face again and his heart was beating like a hummingbird, but he was pulling Law against him with everything he had. Their mouths were so close—slow small gasps against each other's lips, tight with pain. It wasn't that panicked kind of pain anymore, though. More like how you brace before lancing a bad wound. 

"Shit…" Penguin took a shuddering breath once they were as tight together as they could go.

"Y-yeah…" Law kept his eyes closed. He was trying to focus on not fucking losing it while Penguin needed him so much.

"Talk to me? If I can't talk to you," Penguin pleaded.

"Uh. I'm. I'm here."

"Yeah."

"You're here. We're safe." Law rambled, off balance. None of what he was saying felt true yet, but he kept going. "I'm gonna heal you. Everything, I'll fix it. And… and me. I'll be okay, I'll heal myself. We'll be together and we'll be okay. I fucking promise. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I fucking promise, Peng… we'll both be okay."

They drove their damaged bodies together until their muscles screamed at them to stop and they had no more breath for whispered assurances. Law rested his forehead against Penguin's, eyes squeezed shut.

"I've never seen you cry," Penguin reached up to touch where Law's tears had fallen on his own face.

"Fuck. Peng, I think I might just be doing his work for him—"

"NO," Penguin cut that off. "He's not here. I'm here. We're together."

"Yeah. I… it fucking  _ hurts. _ Peng… it all hurts  _ so _ fucking much…"

"I know. It's gonna be okay though." Hands with the same strength and deftness as Law's reached up and drew the tears away. They smoothed into his hair and held him close. The softness was almost harder than the pain.

Law swallowed. "Promise?"

"Yeah."


End file.
